


Won't ever let you down

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Drabble, Family, Fluff, Gen, Nostalgia, Parenthood, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy's not a perfect father, but he tries his best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't ever let you down

**Author's Note:**

> I throw out DC's canon and substitute my own.

It’s a quiet afternoon and he’s sitting on a worn-down couch in his apartment, rubbing at his eyes and attempting to get moving. Get moving, get moving. He doesn’t really want to, but he made a promise. Even if he did make that promise in a half-asleep stupor to a very bratty child at half past midnight. 

He's a horrible dancer, too. But hopefully nobody will notice. And he's hoping there won’t be too many embarrassing photos. God, what if someone brings a camcorder.

A voice from down the hall, calling in a familiar tone. “Daddy.”

“I know,” he says, but it’s more to himself. She wouldn’t listen to any protest, anyway.

When that small creature appears in the hallway with her eyes wide and a sideways grin, he already knows what she’s going to say. She rocks on her feet and almost sways, says, “Daddy, we’re gonna be late.”

“I know,” he says again. But it’s only a few minutes down the road.

“ _Daddy_ ,” she interrupts. She didn’t inherit any patience from him or her mother, that’s for sure. 

“Be nice to me,” he teases, and as he stands up he feels an ache spread through his tired body, “I’m old.” Not that it’s any concern to her, though.

“We’re gonna be late,” she says again, and within seconds he feels her hands like claws, digging into his leg.

“Alright, alright,” he looks down and she’s staring up at him, round eyes that remind him so much of her mother's. It’s uncanny.

“Are you ready,” she cautions him in an almost serious tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. Crosses his arms over his chest and says in a bold voice, “I’m a real prince, just look at me.”

“Daddy,” she protests, “Don’t be embarrassing.”

“What,” he feigns shock. “I would never. I am a mature adult.”

She’s rolling her eyes, “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough out of you,” He pats her on the head, and she frowns at him. “Go put your shoes on.”

She hops along to the front door, grabbing at a pair of small white slippers perched in the corner. Sits down in her fluffy blue dress and makes a funny face as she does battle with them.

And he says, to no one in particular—because she’s so much like her mother, she doesn’t hear most of what he says anyway—“Won’t ever let you down, sweetheart.” 

In a few minutes that moment is gone, and so is that little girl, skipping out the front door.

The years pass on.

He’s in an apartment much like that one, and his eyes are wandering. This place is newer. Updated. Clean. The foundation’s old but it’s holding up just fine. He’s sitting on a couch much like his old one, except this one doesn’t smell funny and it’s not ripped from a certain young child assuming it would withstand scissors being dragged across its leg.

A voice he’s come to know very well.

“Daddy?” from a hallway, much like one he once knew.

“Yeah, yeah,” and he’s rising to his feet. Tired and aching, just as always. Some things don’t change.

“We’re gonna be late,” and she’s there in the hallway, that familiar grin a little less wide than usual, her hands pinning her necklace closed.

“What,” he says with some protest. “I’ve been ready.”

“Sure,” she teases, with a familiar frown, one he’s seen too many times to count. It’s changed throughout the years but it’s never gone away. “I saw you napping,” she says.

“Resting my eyes,” he says. Stretches his arms and makes sure his sleeves don’t look too wrinkled. Don’t want to make too bad of an impression on the new guy. He sounds nice.

He’d better be, anyway.

“Alright,” and there she is, standing before him, a teal green pencil skirt and a soft white blouse that sparkles when she turns. “Look okay?”

He stares, because sometimes it’s a lot to take in.

She blinks back at him, and she grimaces as her voice shakes, “What.”

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Oh,” and her hesitant, almost embarrassed laugh is a sound he hopes to hear for the rest of his life. “Thanks.”


End file.
